


Reside.

by Dry_Lemonade



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Like, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's literally too cute, they're both dumb geniuses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dry_Lemonade/pseuds/Dry_Lemonade
Summary: As we struggle to avoid temptations throughout the day, we often rely on willpower and self-control, but at every moment, temptation beckons; and giving in to these siren calls can be unhealthy. It wrecks our aspirations, longevity and moral compass. But there's nothing we can do about it, can we?Often, in movies and cartoons, the struggle for self-control is frequently portrayed as the devil on one shoulder or another whispering in your ear, encouraging impulsive behavior, with the angel on the other urging control.But what if all of this was not as fictional as we assume?
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Introductory.

As we struggle to avoid temptations throughout the day, we often rely on willpower and self-control, but at every moment, temptation beckons; and giving in to these siren calls can be unhealthy. It wrecks our aspirations, longevity and moral compass. But there's nothing we can do about it, can we?

Often, in movies and cartoons, the struggle for self-control is frequently portrayed as the devil on one shoulder or another whispering in your ear, encouraging impulsive behavior, with the angel on the other urging control.

But what if all of this was not as fictional as we assume? What if the thought of demons and angels that lurk in the shadows and at your side was commonplace? How sure are you that all internal debates, on what's right and what's wrong, are your very own opinions? What if the impression of demons and angels walking among us was all too concrete?

Fenton smiled, his briefcase tucked neatly under his arm as he strolled through the hallways of the McDuck money bin, not a care in the world as he greeted his fellow employees. They all either smiled back or waved politely, greeting him with just as much positivity, before getting back to work.

Granted, some of them found him annoying or overly enthusiastic, but they weren't able to deny the fact that he did, indeed, make their days at the Money Bin a little brighter.

The duck practically skipped down the staircase to the underwater lab, tripping and picking himself up at least three times in the process, before reaching the entrance with his customary grin. "Good morning, Dr. Gearloose! How is your day going so far?"

"Well, my day was particularly fruitful before you arrived, thank you. I take it you had another  _ wonderful _ breakfast?" Gyro mused, not looking up from whatever it was he was working on today. 

Fenton, ever so incognizant, nodded his head enthusiastically as an indication to the beginning of his reply, dropping his suitcase atop his desk and making his way back to his coworker. "M'ma took the afternoon shift so she was able to stay for breakfast. We talked and she finally agreed that it was about time I found myself an apartment." The spirited duck held in a squeal, to Gyro this was nowhere near a big deal, but to Fenton, who'd been begging and pleading for weeks, it meant so much.

"Sounds great." The chicken said monotonously, not caring for the other's misplaced enthusiasm, "Any idea where to?" He added, squinting as he noticed his computer's loading screen was still, after ten minutes, nowhere near its end.

"Where to what?"

"You- where are you going to move to, Cabrera? Do you have any idea about where you want to go yet? Or when?" Gyro asked, this time a bit more informatively, his hand to his forehead as he suspected a headache to form then and there.

"Oh! Yes, actually. I don't really have a lot of money and M'ma said that if I wanted to be independent then I should do so  _ sin ella _ , so really the only place I can afford is downtown. My boxes are all mostly packed so I'll be moving in as soon as I get a place." The duck smiled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

Gyro faltered for a bit. Downtown? The bad part of Duckburg? Would the duck be able to handle everything? The tip of the iceberg was all gangs, drug dealers and robbers already! But never mind all that, what Gyro was most worried about was the duck being so much of an optimistic brat that he'd most probably try to fix up the area with all his misplaced passion for life and such. In turn, this would ruin Gyro's months of carefully crafted hard work trying to turn the place into the raging shit hole it is today.

"Are you sure that that's the right place for you? It's pretty fucked up that side of town." Gyro hummed, typing a password into his windows—a work-issued computer from McDuck Enterprises that was sure to be cheap and outdated.

Fenton, back at his desk and chest-deep in blueprints, sighed indecisively. "I just don't have the finances to go anywhere else, but I thought that, maybe, if I put in enough hard work, I could turn downtown Duckburg into a better place for everyone."

Called it.

Gyro muttered something in vilification, leaving the topic in the air and getting back to work. He didn't have the energy to deal with nerds with hero complexes, he was supposed to start on a new area today, but with Mister Do Good in the way, how could he? A new strategy was needed, and fast.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Gearloose! Don't stay up too late! Good night!" Fenton waved as the elevator doors shut, gone before the chicken could reply, not that he would but the point was made.

But, contrary to the duck's request, Gyro was going to stay up either way. It wasn't like he needed the sleep, what demon really did? A trait he'd come to admire with all his over hour shifts.

The lab was dim, aphotic, on account of Mr. McDuck's order to have all the lights off after ten. The only luminescence coming from the dimly lit computer screen, -the inventor's little helper not lighting the room due to it being in sleep mode- but in that crepuscular fluorescence, a silhouette began to change form, to mold and reshape itself.

Gyro stretched, cracking what parts of him had stiffened from sitting hunched in his seat the whole day, exhaling as his body relaxed once more. Removing his hat from his head, he pulled at the -now enlarged- outgrowths stemming from his head feathers. Long horns twirled outward and back, ends sharp enough to pierce through stone.

A quiet ripping noise sounded from the back of his shirt and the chicken sighed regretfully. "I already cut slits into the backs of all my shirts, why do I always forget to remove my stupid overshirt?!" Gyro screeched in vociferation, turning his head over his shoulder to glare at the rather large pair of wings behind him.

"Where's my tail?" The inventor groaned tiredly, unable to feel any movement at his lower back, he unbuckled his leather belt in hope that it would help create breathing room for his tail to manifest itself. Fortunately, a long red extremity made itself apparent, uncoiling from the back rim of the inventor's pants. "Oh thank the stars."

"Bulb, it’s time to go." Gyro smiled, sharp fangs bared themselves as the little invention's light began to flicker on. He turned off the computer, darkness engulfing itself around him as his pupils contracted to slits and his vision adjusted to the dark.

He was to initiate his plan tonight.

* * *

"M'ma,  _ Estás en tu casa _ ?"

No response.

"Late shift." The latino duck sighed, as much as Fenton craved spending time with his m'ma, he was glad she was out there and trying her best to make Duckburg a better, safer place for all. He envied that. It was so easy for her, she knew what was right and went for it without hesitation. He, on the other hand, even as an assistant to the Big Guy themself, found his job a very hard task to tackle.

Moving to downtown Duckburg was going to give him that final push into doing what he was put on this Earth to do, and, although lying to Gyro was for both of their own goods, it still made him feel pretty bad. "One day I'll be able to tell him... when he gets to heaven himself." The duck reassured himself, "I'm sure of it."

Fenton was never one to assume the worst, mistrust or deny a person's internal morality, but that doesn't mean that he had never doubted their inevitable ending direction. Some people were beyond his help, some too far out of reach, and some -being one normally sarcastic inventor- whose personality made the duck all too flustered to tamper with.

At one point, when anxiously asked,  _ The Big Guy _ had answered a long-debated query of if Fenton were to be condemned for his love of all genders, more so that of his own.  _ They  _ answered exactly, "Doubt yourself not, dear Peacemaker, for I have made all to be and find love entirely and completely, unbound of sin and unhampered of aversion. You manifest is a vision of my own self, and thus gratified and appeased forthwith. So I bid you, my son, advance and exist unequaled."

A vibrating in his pocket made the duck turn his head from the television, just as he was about to take it out, four other vibrations followed after the first. Five texts. One from M'ma that read 

_ 'Food in microwave. Disfrutar de su cena. Be back tomorrow. Mucho amor, M'ma <3' _

Fenton chuckled, he'd told his mother so many times that she didn't need to sign off with  _ 'M'ma'  _ every time she messaged him. They had each other's contacts, signing off was redundant.

But the other four, which Fenton hesitated to open at first, was from a number unknown to him. He opened the message either way, not wanting to leave said person waiting, and was a little more than pleasantly surprised at what he'd read.

_ 'Good evening, Cabrera' _

_ ‘As you were probably unable to tell, due to not having my contact information prior, this is Dr. Gyro Gearloose.' _

_ 'My apologies if I am bothering you at this hour.' _

_ ' I have a proposition I'd like to ask of you in call, if you don't mind, although, if it is of any inconvenience to you, we can talk tomorrow in the lab.' _

Fenton chuckled softly to himself, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Gyro typed the way he spoke, with his sentences full out like he was writing a formal letter, no emojis whatsoever. Pulling up his keyboard, his fingers crossed the screen in a blur. He'd have to type full out as well to gain a good impression, maybe they'd chat frequently in future if he did.

_ 'Of course!' _

_ 'And you're not being a bother or interrupting me in the slightest. I was bored and up to nothinh anyway.' _

To which the inventor sent only a correction of his spelling mistake and a smiling emoticon, followed shortly by Fenton's ringtone going off.

"Oh. He meant right now." The duck mused, swiping the green call button, "Dr. Gearloose! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, the smile in his voice all too apparent.

Gyro gave a nervous cough through the other end of the line, "Uhm, so I have been thinking this over for a while and I'd concluded that it would be financially beneficial to the both of us if I were to open my apartment to you as well." Before the duck had time to respond or even register what was going on, the inventor rushed, "But of course you're not  _ obligated _ to do so, as I still resign in downtown Duckburg, and I understand if you prefer a different option! It was just a suggestion from my part and I-"

"Dr. Gearloose, it's alright! No further explanation or input is required." Fenton chuckled melodically, "I accept the offer."


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Google Translate Spanish in this chapter folks!  
> Look, the main focus is on Gyro's feelings, okay! Fenton's just speaking to a background character, what he's saying is not important.
> 
> Apologies in advance if anything sounds wrong, i speak many languages, but Spanish is not one of them!

"He wasn't really, but that's a story for another night, as it appears we've talked ourselves well into the early wakes of the morning, and on a workday nonetheless. I should let you rest. Goodnight, Cabrera." Gyro smiled sheepishly.

"Oh,  _ Dios Mio! _ Goodnight Dr. Gearloose! Pleasant dreams!" The duck giggled tiredly, a yawn being cut off as the call ended.

The chicken turned over, looking moonily at his most exultant invention as it drifted in and out of sleep mode. He picked it up with the utmost care, greatly exaggerating how fragile it was in his arms as he strolled his way into the bedroom, rather proud of himself to have cleaned up the house a day prior.

"He took the bait, Lil Bulb. Our plan is beginning to fall into place, slowly but surely." Gyro mused, tucking the invention into a rather large shoe box topped with a mini pillow and a very cozy looking red blanket, "When he's moved in here, I'll have much better access to making sure he doesn't ruin all my hard work over the past months! Maybe then father would allow me to return home."

Daybreak came faster than the inventor expected, his alarm clock nearly demolished in the process of being woken. Breakfast was a slice of toast with nothing but butter and a large cup of black coffee from the closest Starducks. The subway ride was as tedious as ever, with only the occasional screaming of children late for school, the chicken taunting them that they'd be expelled and never find work because of their tardiness, to the point of bringing them to tears, until, finally, he'd arrived at the money bin.

Lil Bulb was sat idly in his leather sling bag, waving to the other employees as his creator only scowled at the kind gesture. "Lil Bulb, if you're well behaved today then maybe, when we get home, I'll let you set the microwave on fire," Gyro said, to which the little invention glowed excitedly. He was in a rather good mood this morning, with no ideas as to why that could be.

As the doors to the elevator opened, the chicken faltered, almost dropping his coffee in the process. "Cabrera! What's with all these boxes in the lab?" He yelled, placing his sling bag and coffee cup on his desk before something bad happened to either of them.

"Oh! Good morning Dr. Gearloose! The -uhm- the boxes are in here because I thought it might be easier to move in a day earlier, but then I realized that I have no idea what your address is and since the boxes were already in the thingy." Fenton paused, struggling to find the word. The chicken stood patiently, allowing him time to figure out his tongue, watching intently as the duck mumbled several words in both Spanish, English and gibberish, " _ el camión _ , in the -the uhm, the truck!" The duck grinned, his English was a bit off sometimes, but Gyro never minded, "I told the mover to put the boxes in the lab for the meantime." Fenton ranted on nervously, unsure of whether to scratch the back of his neck or fiddle with his fingers, as he awaited Gyro's scolding or a punishment of some sort for wasting his time.

"Well, I suppose it makes sense. Just don't let it interfere with my work until we can call the mover again tonight." The chicken sighed, his mood was too positive to be tampered with by Fenton's usual spontaneity today.

The duck blinked, unsure of if what he'd just heard was correct. First of all, Gyro didn't get mad at him for this, though, at some times this could be considered normal. Secondly, and the duck didn't mean to get unnecessarily wishful over this but, what Gyro said sounded kind of couple-y? Just the thought of moving in with someone you've been crushing on for the past few months sounds all too surreal, and the fact that it was Gyro's idea made it even more dreamlike.

Fenton internally scolded himself for thinking this, but temptation told him that, maybe, just maybe, something even more surreal could blossom from the two living together. He truly was a drop-dead romantic.

It was no surprise or unsolvable mystery that Gyro was gay -he practically and sometimes literally flaunted it- and it was almost as obvious that Fenton was not one hundred percent straight, so that made his wish a little bit more liberal, although, the duck was still unsure what Gyro's type was. Hopefully, if the chicken even had one, it was him.

The day went by pretty quickly, on both Gyro and Fenton's parts, both eager to get home for completely different reasons. "It’s about time to clock out. Should I call  _ Tío Marcus _ ?"

"Who?"

"The mover. He's an old family friend that promised to give me a free move when I finally leave home." Fenton explained, taking out his cellphone as soon as the chicken walked over to him.

Gyro shrugged, “If you’re ready to leave then we can leave. I’m just about done either way.” He added, leaning over Fenton’s shoulder to watch him scroll through his contact list. Straightening up as the dail sound could be heard, Gyro watched as the duck held up a finger, gesturing for the chicken to give him a moment to speak.

_ "Hola, Tío Marcus! Espero que hayas tenido un buen día. Sí. ¿Podría pedirte un favor? Bueno. Sí. Me muevo esta noche… sí, con el apuesto jefe..." _

Gyro stood immobile, transfixed on the short duck beside him that began and continued the conversation in his first tongue. He had no idea what was being said right next to him. Fenton could have been plotting his murder for all he knew. Which, of course, he wouldn’t. This  _ was  _ Fenton after all.

But he chose to trust the duck, not on account that he was a generally good person but, because Fenton's voice had always sounded so enticing to him when the latter spoke in Spanish. It was just how easily his words flowed in sequence that made Gyro start to admire how gentle and playful Fenton's voice was. The chicken had no idea when he’d begun to feel this way, but lately it was becoming all too overwhelming. 

_ 'He speaks with so much pride and ease that it'd be near impossible to ignore such melody' _ , the chicken thought,  _ ‘Oh no, I’m being poetic again..’ _

_ "Nos vemos más tarde! Adiós Tío!"  _ Fenton ended the call, smiling up at the stunned inventor beside him. "He'll be here in a few. In the meantime we could… clean… up? Sir, are you feeling okay? Your face is absolutely flustered!"

"I- yes! J-just a little hot, is all. In the lab. Underwater. Yup." The chicken cleared his throat, suddenly finding the fact that Fenton's boxes were labelled more interesting than this conversation. "Music?” He read aloud, “Like instruments and such?" He asked, pointing toward one of the boxes left of him.

"Ah, yes. I dabble in the musical arts sometimes. If I wasn't an aspiring inventor I'd probably have pursued a career in theatre or broadway." Fenton chuckled anxiously.

"That's actually pretty interesting. What instruments do you play?" Gyro asked, looking back at the shorter.

"Mostly guitar and violin, although I've been learning to play the piano lately." Fenton smiled, sitting down on top of the nearest box, "Do you play anything, Dr. G?"

"That's classified information, Fenton, if I told you I’d have to kill you." The chicken smirked, unknowingly baring his unnaturally sharp teeth as he did so.

The duck chuckled awkwardly, not sure if the other was joking or not, his laughter ceasing as soon as realisation had struck him, "Wow, sir, this is the first time you've called me by my name, like, ever!" Fenton looked up at the chicken, whose eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates, stars twinkling in his irises as he called the inventor out on his unusual behavior.

"Well, I- uhm-" Cut short by the lab's intercom, Gyro exhaled quietly. He was allowing his emotions to evince. As recent as they were, the chicken was sure they'd become harder to conceal now that Fenton was to live with him.

"That was Lee at the front desk, they said that Tío Marcus is downstairs waiting." Fenton smiled, walking past the blushing mess of an inventor beside him, and picked up two boxes off the ground. "We can start hauling these into the truck."

Gyro nodded, picking up a stack of three boxes that were labelled as  _ 'Heavy'  _ almost effortlessly, Fenton paying no mind to the act of supernatural strength behind him as he started a conversation on random topics that filled his thoughts almost immediately.

The two continued to walk up and down countless flights of stairs with no trouble at all, both worried the other might not be able to keep up with their superhuman endurance and or strength.

"Wow, this went way faster than I first expected." Fenton giggled, placing the last of the load on his shoulder, "Maybe we’d even have some time left to go out and get some groceries." He joked, placing the package into the truck, and turned to look at his coworker who just shrugged dismissively.

"I don’t have anything back home but ramen. I assume that, if my food supply were to be shared between us, you would grow tired of it eventually." The inventor stated, bending forward to allow Lil Bulb access to his shoulder, "And, if we  _ do  _ go, possibly on the way back, we can stop at your old place and say hi to your mother. She might want to, at least, see her son before he moved out completely." He chuckled cutely.

Fenton stood, unblinking and a little surprised at Gyro’s odd behavior tonight, not caring that his uncle called him over as he stared the chicken down -despite his short stature.  _ "¿Por qué estás siendo raro?"  _ He whispered to the inventor, hoping that he spoke, at least some, Spanish, but at the same hoping he didn't, in fear of having to accept that Gyro understood when Fenton talked to Manny about him around the lab.

“Uhm. I don’t understand what you're saying-?”

_ "Mi hijo, ¿estás listo?" _ The mover called out. Not as enticingly as Fenton would have, thought Gyro.

_ "Sí, Tío! Acabo de terminar!" _ The duck replied, jokingly telling Gyro that they need to get into the truck now or Tío Marcus will drive off without them. "He just needs your address before we leave." To which the chicken responded with a soft  _ 'Oh, yes!' _ and handed Fenton a small card that was engraved with his email, telephone number and home address.

_ "¡Gracias!" _ The duck smiled before taking off to the driver's seat and handing the card to his uncle. 

Gyro watched him go with a monotonous expression, trying his best to ignore the loud thumping in his chest followed by what felt like the rapid fluttering of butterflies in his stomach.  _ 'This is nothing we don’t endure on the daily' _ , he reassured himself,  _ 'it's probably just because I'm only used to him speaking Spanish in random outbursts and not so fluently or graciously in conversation form' _ , he sighed.

The ride to downtown Duckburg was awkward and nerve wrecking for reasons neither scientist would dare admit to. For Fenton, it was the excitement of moving in with the man he found so fascinating, the misunderstood genius he'd, at first, been so inspired by but come to fall for, the wacky inventor he'd admired from both up close and afar. For Gyro, it was him questioning his emotions once again, inquiring a reason as to why everything was hitting him all at once like an out-of-control freight train today, speculative of whether or not these feelings grew tired of being harbored inside of him, biding their time until this moving fiasco had given him the final push toward paying mind to his useless heart.

_ "Hemos llegado!" _ The driver called out, snapping both inventors out of their respective trances, making Fenton take a gander out of the window and examine his new neighborhood. All that the duck concluded was that it seemed like Gyro stayed in the better part of downtown Duckburg in a well sized apartment complex.

The two began to silently carry all of the boxes up, with occasional compliments of the Gearloose household from Fenton and inaudible mutterings from Gyro in flustered response. The inventor internally scolded at himself to keep it together, offering to take the last box up as an excuse to leave. Fenton had nodded back, saying that he was going to thank his uncle before coming up and getting a better look at the place.

_ "Tío Marcus! ¡Muchas gracias por su ayuda! Nos vemos el próximo mes para la noche de juegos familiares, ¿sí?"  _ The duck smiled, waving frantically as he watched the mover go, stealing a quick glance at the apartment window and finding, what looked like, Gyro having a conversation with his little helper. 

"Of course you can set the microwave on fire, Bulb, but you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, when Fenton leaves for work. I don’t want him freaking out when we start jumping around in the blazing rubble.” Gyro chuckled, walking over to the livingroom to put his little helper to bed, pecking his lightbulb before reassuring him that he’d be back soon enough.

“Alright, Gyro, you have another plan now, don’t screw this up.” The inventor whispered to himself as he opened the door to the apartment. “Fenton! Get your coat, we’re going with my car.” He stated, holding the door ajar so that the duck could run in and grab anything that would keep him warm, waddling back out in a struggle to stuff his arms through the puffy sleeves.

“Anything in particular we need to get?” Fenton asked, following idly behind the chicken as they made their way down the staircase, trying to keep his composure at the fact that Gyro had called him by his name again. “Like something you’re completely certain we’ll need.”

“Milk.” Gyro responded monotonously, clicking his tongue quietly before adding on to his answer, “And a microwave, or two.” The duck glanced up at him with curiosity, unsure why they’d need two extra microwaves when the one back at the apartment had looked just about fully functional. But, Gyro was an inventor, so it wasn’t really weird or out of the ordinary.

Gyro’s car was relatively large, both for having to comfortably fit his unusually tall stature as well as make him feel superior to all others on the road. And, out of every other car he’d owned before, this one was the  _ exact  _ shade of green that he wanted. Plus it was pretty cheap, but that wasn’t the point.

Fenton sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat, barely able to get so much as a glance over the dashboard. He felt like an infant, drowning in the leather of the passenger seat. Gyro only chuckled beside him, after starting the car, and pointed out that Fenton was allowed to adjust the seat however he pleased so long as it was returned to its original state afterward.

The drive wasn’t nearly long enough to Fenton’s liking, as the two had karaoked some ‘funky tunes’ -as the duck had referred to it- and mocked the early evening radio DJ hosting the segment. Eventually they’d arrived at some place called  _ ‘Jack and John’s’ _ , to which Gyro claimed it to be the only store in town with the cheapest, yet most authentic, products.

“We’ll go through each aisle, one after the other, and take what we need.” Fenton suggested, pulling a shopping cart out from the stack in the corner entrance of the store. “Unless you have any better ideas?”

Gyro glanced around for a second, suddenly realising how thin the isles really were and that the two of them would have to squeeze in so they didn't completely knock everything off the shelves.

Gyro shrugged back at the duck, ringing his arm over the shorter's shoulder to make more room as they began to move. A burning heat was beginning to form beside the chicken's forearm and Gyro looked over in confusion.

Fenton’s face was flushed so brightly that the chicken was scared he might start bleeding from his cheeks. “Shit, Fen, are you okay?” The spontaneity of the nickname only added to the fluttering in the duck's chest and had caused Fenton to falter, tripping over both himself and the cart. “Fenton! Oh my stars! Here, give me your hand.” 

Raising his arm in acceptance of the chicken’s help, his face turned away in embarrassment, Fenton allowed himself to be hoisted up almost supernaturally easy. He was a little confused by the unusual bout of strength, but shrugged it off as him being a short, lightweight fowl or maybe Gyro had a robot arm, in that moment he didn't care.

Gyro grabbed the duck by the jaw, examining his face for injury or external bleeding, almost deathly worried for his coworker’s health. Finding nothing injured, broken or dismembered, the inventor sighed in relief, letting go almost instantly and clearing his throat loudly. “Well, since you’re doing just fine, we can start on the last aisle and make our way up.”

Fenton nodded, following suit as the chicken made his way to the aisle furthest from the cashier. “Do you have cereal at home?” The duck asked, breaking the ice as well as the awkwardness between them as they strolled past nearly dozens of children's brand cereal boxes.

Gyro shook his head, “Just ramen and coffee.”

“Oh! Then we should get these!” Fenton exclaimed, grabbing a colorful box off the middle shelf and shoving it at the inventor’s chest.

“Rainbow Loops? Fenton this is gay.” Gyro scoffed, soon becoming unable to hold in his laughter. He giggled softly, covering his beak with the back of his hand elegantly as he did so, to which the duck flushed brightly once more, muttering something along the lines of  _ ‘obviously’ _ .

Gyro rolled his eyes playfully.

“You sure you could handle this sugar though?” He asked, eyes skimming the kilojoule count on the table of contents that were nearly hidden on the side of the box, “You could get a heart attack just by smelling this stuff.”

Fenton pouted, “You’re one to judge my food choices, Mr. Ramen and coffee.”

“Hey, that’s _ Dr _ . Ramen and coffee to you, Cabrera.” The inventor joked, sticking his tongue out mockingly as they continued their bantering in each aisle.

"Oh so I'm  _ Cabrera  _ now?" Fenton smirked. The smugness in his voice was almost as cute as his face, Gyro thought, turning his head over to hide his very evident blush.

"Oh look, the electronics isle." He chuckled, storming off.

"Hey wait for me!"

* * *

Packing the groceries into the boot of the chicken’s car, Gyro asked the duck if his mother was perhaps working a late shift, as they could always come back again tomorrow if she were.

"It's hard to tell with M'ma sometimes. She occasionally tells me if she's working an early shift or not but lately I never get word of late shifts." Fenton sighed, his days of pondering over why she didn't trust him enough, to at least inform him about when she'll be working late, should've been over a long time ago. "Sometimes I think she doesn't trust me." He hushed.

Gyro smiled softly, resting a hand on Fenton’s shoulder in silent comfort, his heart racing as he thought to bring the other into a hug.  _ 'It might make him feel better, but then again, it might make things awkward.'  _ The inventor thought, taking a few seconds to analyze the pros and cons of giving his friend a reassuring hug.

Taking the leap, Gyro turned the duck around by the shoulder and engulfed him in a tight hug, the angle already awkward because of their height difference. "I'm sure she trusts you," He began to whisper into Fenton's hair, "she probably just doesn't want to bother you while you work by informing you of such inconsequences.

“I’m not trying to speak on her behalf, but I think she doesn't tell you this because she trusts you enough to take care of yourself as well as the house. Maybe she just feels like she needs to stop babying you, I mean, look at you!" Gyro scoffed, "you've got a stable job working for the world's richest duck and the best scientist in Duckburg! Plus, you're a superhero too! Even with the stresses that come with those, you're still kind and passionate about everything. Which I don’t think I’d ever fully understand but that’s just me, I guess... and now you're moving out. She might just think that you don't need her as much anymore."

Fenton, finally able to move his body, wrapped his arms tightly around the taller, burrowing his face in Gyro's chest. "Thank you." He hushed.

They stood there for what felt like days, the chicken beginning to grow uncomfortable at the fact that they were doing this in a parking lot at 2.30 am in the second most dangerous part of Duckburg. "We should -uh- probably get going. The milk's gonna spoil if we stay here any longer." He mumbled, only then hearing the soft snores resonating from his chest. "Asleep. He's actually asleep. Alright."

Bending over slightly, Gyro hooked his arm around the duck's waist and another around his legs. Hoising him off the ground, bridal style, he rested the duck in the back seat of the car, covering him with a spare blanket that had been sprawled on the floor, before getting into the driver's seat himself.

"We'll visit your mother tomorrow. I really don't want her to think I kidnapped you." Gyro whispered to the unconscious figure behind him, starting the car, then turned to the conscious one beside him. "I know what you're thinking and it's no."

"Aww come on, Gy, it'll be fun. Like old times. You and I. We'll make it look like a suicide, you've always been good at playing these things off."

"I said no, Asher." The inventor glanced back at the slumbering body in the backseat, smiling softly as he listened to the soft snores it released. “Not him.”

"Man, Gy, you're fucking whipped." Asher chuckled, crossing his slender legs over the dashboard, "I'll warn you now before you get hurt again, Gy, the energy's strong with this one, so be careful."

Gyro didn't understand what was meant by energy but, with Asher, it could've been anything. He knew that information like that would need to be pried from the stubborn demon beside him. "I'm off tomorrow, join me for lunch?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss-"

"Ah, ah, ah. We're not eating anyone this week, I'm on a diet. Sadly enough, being half alive makes me eligible for disease. And that shit sucks." The chicken visibly gagged.

"You suck."

"I don't know if you're trying to insult me or state the obvious." Gyro chuckled, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ash, just show up whenever, but if I feel, in any way, that I'm being stood up, I'm allowed to summon you."

"Aww man, Gy, you know that shit makes me uncomfortable. But whatever. I'll see you tomorrow, dickwad." Asher clicked his tongue, pecking the chicken's cheek before disappearing completely.

Gyro carried the groceries up first, about to do the same with Fenton after those were all cleared, but faltering as he heard his name leave the duck's beak. "He's still asleep." The chicken hushed, disregarding the action and picking him up anyway.

Fenton was placed on Gyro's bed, as the duck’s new room contained only boxes for the meantime. "We'll have to retrieve the bed from your mother's house tomorrow." The chicken said, more to himself due to the other's apparent unconsciousness. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight, I guess."

With a sigh, Fenton was tucked underneath two of Gyro's coziest blankets, topped with his comfiest pillow. "That should do it for now. Goodnight, Fenton." He muttered, bending over slightly, brushing the duck’s hair back, and kissing his forehead lightly. “Sweet dreams.”


	3. Do Something About It Then

“I really thought you’d work through your day off like you usually do.” Fenton said, scratching the back of his neck, “Honestly, I think I’m gonna miss you with me. At work, I mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a one time thing, probably. I’m having lunch with an old friend of mine. He’s in town again for…  _ business _ and I thought it’d be nice to catch up.” Gyro explained, folding his blanket up and setting it down at the corner of the couch.

“Oh.” Fenton said, his tone a little disheartened, “Then I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. You live with me, it’s infeasible that you won’t see me tonight.” Gyro chuckled, hands at his hips as he looked down at the duck, shooing him out of the apartment. “Now go! Enjoy your day!” He yelled out as Fenton left the apartment, “And don’t burn down the lab!”

“It’s an underwater lab, I couldn’t if I tried!” Fenton laughed back.

“Then don’t drown it out!” The inventor chuckled, waving him off as the duck turned a corner.

“Lil Bulb! I told you to wait for me! Unhand that lighter!”

* * *

“I don’t know, Manny, maybe they’re just friends, although they could’ve had something together in the past? What if they were trying to rekindle some old flame? Or what if his friend likes him-” Fenton gasped, “What if _Gyro_ likes _him!_ _Dios mio! Desperdicié mi tiro,_ Manny-!” The duck was cut short, feeling a sudden burning heat tingling against his cheek, glaring up at the headless man-horse.

_ “Ay, Mierda!  _ What was that for?!” Fenton cried in vociferation, to which Manny clopped offensively at the duck’s unnecessary anxiety, telling him that Gyro was just having lunch with an old friend and that there was nothing to worry about. Also that they had to get back to work because Mr. McDuck was coming in through the elevator.

“Fenton, my boy, where is Gyro?” Scrooge smiled, his head batting left and right, hands on his hips as soon as he glanced up at the younger duck.

“It’s his day off, sir.” Fenton answered, stepping up to stand before his superior, respectfully.

“Ae figured. Is he in the bathroom or elsewhere in the building?”

“He’s not in today, sir.” Fenton repeated, making the older duck chuckle loudly.

“You’ll have to get up pretty early to fool Scrooge McDuck, Cabrera. But, seriously, where is he?” Scrooge stomped his cane to the floor, looking the younger duck in the eyes impatiently.

“Out with a friend, sir. I’m being completely honest with you.”

“Not in? With a friend? That’s very unusual behavior from Gyro. Will he be back tomorrow? There’s something Ae wish ta discuss with him.”

“He’ll be in. Same time as always, sir.” The younger duck answered, not really sure himself if the promise he’s spitting out will be met. In actuality, he was just being hopeful that Gyro won’t suddenly decide to spend the night at his _ ‘friend’s’ _ place and skip work the next day.

“Alright. See you tomorrow then, Fenton.” Scrooge waved the younger duck off, making his way to the elevator and leaving for his office.

“I wonder what that was about?” Both Fenton and Manny shrugged the subject off, getting back to work immediately after, Fenton not being able to shake his anxiety off, but keeping it silent until he could clock off eventually.

* * *

“Asher! _ Please _ put him down!” Gyro sighed, his head in his hands as the demon played, floating aimlessly in the air, with the chicken’s most exultant invention. Gyro trusted his friend wholeheartedly, but putting his fragile Lil Bulb in any type of danger that he was certain there was even an inch of a chance that the invention could not protect itself from, made him a little more than paranoid.

“Aww, you’re no fun, Gy!” The devil laughed, lowering himself to the ground, resting both himself and the invention on the carpeted floor. “When was the last time you slaughtered, much less  _ tortured,  _ something?” Asher asked, pouting like a child who’d been denied candy in exchange for vegetables.

“Two weeks ago, I think? But that’s not important. Tell me how things are going downstairs.” Gyro asked, sitting crossed legged across from his friend, “Anybody miss me?” He added with a soft smirk.

“Yeah, they all did, when hell froze over last Thursday.” Asher chuckled, “But, other than me, nerp!"

"Expected." The chicken clicked his tongue, "Any new recruits?"

"Oh, yeah! There was this new one, I think their name's Lee? They were recruited as surveillance and got sent up a month ago. I have no idea where though.”

“Wait, a month ago? That’s when our new secretary started working down at the money bin. Their name's Lee too.”

“You think Belphagor sent them to watch over you?” The demon sat up on his arms, eyes slit and skeptical as he examined Gyro’s expression.

“It's a logical conclusion. My progress  _ has _ become rather slow lately.”

“Is it ‘cause of your little sleeping beauty?” Asher chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows up at the chicken, “He seems like quite the distraction.”

The inventor blushed, turning his head to the side with a loud scoff, “You wish.” he muttered, neck snapping to the side as his phone vibrated.

“Cabrera? Ooh~ Who’s that?” The demon asked, gasping as he noticed the blush on Gyro’s cheeks redden almost immediately, “Oh! It's a loverboy! Let's see what he wants, shall we?” Asher chuckled, pushing himself up and into the air as soon as Gyro’s hands sprang for the phone.

“Ash!” His voice broke, big mistake.

The mischievous demon snorted, opening the phone and typing the password. Of course it was triple six nine, their little inside joke from decades back. Asher cleared his throat, an indication that he was about to read the message aloud,

“ _ ‘Hey, Dr. G! My apologies if I’m being a bother’ _ ,” The demon faux gagged, chuckling afterward, “This kid’s so innocent and mushy. Sure he’s your type ‘Mr. Prideful Devil Man’?” Asher asked before continuing, “ _ ‘Mr. McDuck was asking for you today. I am unclear why but I assured him that you’ll be back tomorrow. I was just checking in to make sure–’ _

“Holy shit, Gy, he likes you!”

“What?! Don’t be absurd! He was just checking in, like he so stated.”

Asher scoffed, giving the chicken a frustrated eye roll.

“Stop being a fucking pussy and get some, dude, you look like you haven’t been laid in months.” Asher laughed, handing the phone over so that Gyro could text the duck back, snorting as he noticed the expression on the chicken’s face, “Fuck, bro, seriously! Go pick him up from work and take him out tonight or something. I’m leaving now but I’ll be back tomorrow for the deets, m’kay?” 

Gyro scoffed, pressing enter on his phone’s keyboard before mumbling something incoherent. Asher chuckled for the final time that day, pecking the inventor’s cheek as per usual and fading off, “I want the motherfucking  _ tea _ tomorrow!”

The inventor smiled softly, checking the time on his phone’s lock screen. “Ten minutes, I could make that.” He whispered to himself, “Lil Bulb! I’m going out! Don’t destroy anything down while I’m gone!” He yelled into the bedroom, where the little invention had escaped to earlier to avoid Asher’s grasp. It replied by smashing a small pot plant that once resigned on the nightstand.

Gyro cooed at it before locking the door and rushing down the stairs to his car, nearly leaping into the vehicle, and starting the engine immediately. Checking his mirrors, the chicken set off for the money bin, the radio turned off in exchange for a USB that was always plugged into the stereo, the playlist already beginning on voice command. “Birdi, shuffle playlist five.” He said, turning out of the complex parking lot and into the street.

“Playing playlist ‘Dummy’.” The disembodied voice responded, making the inventor blush at the stupid decision to name all of his playlists after things the specific songs reminded him of. (In other news, Gyro has a list labelled ‘Spaghetti’; it’s playlist number two).

The trip was quick, considering traffic was on the inventor’s side that afternoon, green lights aglow as streetlights were passed in an endless blurr. It wasn’t that late into the afternoon, but it was mid-winter and that caused for early, awe-inspiring sunsets, such as the one Gyro was driving into. It was gorgeous, a brilliant red and orange gradient, lavish even. It made the chicken feel at ease, driving peacefully through the tranquil beauty before him.

Maybe it was a good sign? But then again, nothing was ever as it seemed.

Gyro turned the steering wheel right, hands pulling over each other as he gripped at the leather; his nerves were getting to him now. “Stars, I can’t believe I let Asher talk me into this.” He whispered to himself as he got out and locked his car. 

Making his way down the staircase to the underwater lab, Gyro exhaled through his beak, calming himself slightly as he entered the lab. “Hello?” He called out. Manny wasn’t at his desk -if you could even call one lone hay bale with a computer anything near that- and neither was Fenton. The chicken huffed, about to make his way to the back room and grab a cup of coffee to wait. The lab wasn’t locked when he’d arrived so that meant that Fenton might have gone out to grab something, maybe some spare parts or something to eat from the vending machines upstairs. The chicken faltered in his steps when a small thud resounded from the bathroom. Oh, yes, he’d completely forgotten that Fenton did his work there.

Gyro rolled his eyes, walking over in that direction to investigate, knocking on the door expectantly.  _ “Un momento por favor.”  _ The voice, hoarse and scratchy, chuckled from behind the door, making Gyro smile at the duck’s frivolousness.

A minute passed before the door finally opened, revealing a disheveled Fenton, hair amess, eyes damp and pink. Either he had been high -a conclusion that Gyro doubts  _ completely- _ or he’d been crying. “ _ Dios mio! _ Dr. Gearloose! Wh-what brings you to the lab? It’s your day off.” He gasped, turning away and rubbing at his eyes immediately, playing off his current appearance with a low chuckle.

“I wanted to give you a lift home.” Gyro hushed, turning his head to the side to get a better look at his roommate, “We still have to retrieve your bed from your mother’s place but your car’s too small and... are- are you okay? We can always go straight home if you’re feeling unwell. You can sleep in my bed again, I have no concerns with the couch-”

“It’s- I’m alright! Just being a little dramatic, is all.” Fenton smiled up at Gyro, who only gave him a concerned look in return. “I’m ready to go if you are.” He added with a puff of his chest, walking past the chicken as though he was about to take on the world, head up and forward to try and conceal the mild burning sensation in his eyes.

“Uhm, yeah- yes. The car’s out front. We can take the elevator up, if you want?” Gyro asked, following behind the duck as they entered the contraption. “So how was work? Flood anything while I was gone?” He chuckled, nudging Fenton’s shoulder with his elbow, an attempt to change both the subject and the suffocating atmosphere between the two.

“It was pretty boring actually. The only thing I flooded today was my mind… with science!” The duck added, nodding his head as the elevator began to move up. “How was your day, though? With your  _ friend  _ ?” He forced the last word out through heavily gritted teeth, trying his best to keep his jealousy at bay; envy was a deadly sin after all.

“It was alright. Ash is still a major dick, as always. We talked about random things, he played around with Lil Bulb for a while, although I don’t think it likes him.” Gyro smiled with a curt shrug, “And then he left. In short, the visit was a living hell.” He snorted.

Fenton perked up a bit, trying his best not to assume, thinking that maybe he still had a chance to shoot his shot. “And how’s Lil Bulb doing?”

They got into the car, Fenton smiling as he listened to Gyro ramble on about how cute, homicidal and mischievous his little invention was, a visible sparkle in both their eyes. The chicken turned on the radio, forgetting to remove his USB from the stereo, an embarrassingly lovey dovey song resuming play from list five. “Oh stars!” He panicked, “Birdi, switch off the music!”

The vehicle obeyed, ceasing the romantic melody in exchange for the evening radio. “Turning off playlist ‘Dummy’ and switching to radio.” Gyro blushed madly, glancing over to see that Fenton was his usual unwavered and oblivious self.

“Your car calls you Dummy? That’s funny. My car just calls me  _ señor _ .” Fenton laughed, changing the radio station a few times before landing on his favorite hispanic segment, ‘Late nights with Máximo’.

Gyro watched in awe as the duck began to sing along to every song that was played, sometimes tripping over his words but picking himself up immediately and continuing with the most alluring smile on his face. Now. He had to do it now.

“Hey, Fen?” The duck perked up at his name being called, lowering the volume on the stereo so that he could focus on the voice he favored more.

“Yeah?” He smiled, looking right at Gyro’s direction. The chicken gulped when glancing back at the duck, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, temptation screaming at him to keep staring into Fenton’s hypnotically beautiful hazel eyes. Eyelashes batting up at him as they neared a red light. Now. Here’s a stop. Perfect time to do it.

“Uh, I- uhm.” He cleared his throat, “So, maybe, after we retrieve your bed from your mother’s house, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for dinner tonight?” He asked, rushing through the words like it was the only breath he had.

“Like get take out? We went grocery shopping just yesterday.”

_ ‘Oh stars, he’s so dense.’  _ Gyro swooned internally, at the same time wanting to smack the living daylights out of the duck for being so oblivious and having to make the inventor bring his point across more clearly.

Gyro grunted, pulling the vehicle into neutral quickly, the pulsating of his heart overtaking every inch of his chest to the point where he could feel it throbbing it’s way up his throat and into his brain, making him lose all sense of thought, logical or no. Leaning over both seats, he grabbed Fenton by the jaw and pulled him in for a kiss, all in one swift, fluid motion.

Gyro internally chuckled, watching as the duck’s eyes grew wide, feeling Fenton’s anxiety and panic skyrocket. He pulled away slightly, faces close enough to feel the duck’s heavy breathing against his beak. Fenton sat spooked, emotionless before him, making Gyro regret what he’d done. “I’m sorry, I-” He was cut short, feeling a tug at the back of his neck pull him in for another kiss, this one harder, more desirous than that of the one Gyro had originally initiated.

Fenton held Gyro’s cheek in one hand, and the back of his head with the other, afraid to loosen his grip, in fear of the other slipping away from his grasp. A loud honk of someone’s car horn sounded behind them, scaring the two apart, making Gyro pull the car into gear and speed out of the way of other drivers.

“So no take out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rushed ending. sorry.


End file.
